Unleashed

by Amy McCulloch

  And Jinx will be in the room too, in his strange disguise. Not too much can go wrong with him there.

  We step out on to the landing, and immediately we are hit with a wave of noise. It’s surprisingly loud for a party made up only of people talking, and my anxiety rises as I realize just how big the crowd is.

  >>The more people there are, the easier it will be to blend in – and you’ll be less likely to bump into Eric or Carter Smith.

  That’s true, I think, grateful for Jinx’s grounding words.

  A string quartet plays a fancy version of ‘Jingle Bells’ and is only just audible above the noise of the chatter and clinking of glasses. From the mezzanine balcony, we finally get a view of the whole party. And what a party. Bakus and people mix, along with flutes of champagne that sparkle with their contents. The lighting is warm, twinkle lights draped wherever there is space, creating an atmosphere that looks as if the party is surrounded by stars.

  I scan the crowd. Then, I drop my eyes. I realize that I’ve been looking for Monica. A part of me still believes that maybe this is all a mistake – that she’s not being imprisoned against her will any more, that someone else from inside the company could have freed her – that all of this doesn’t have to rest on the shoulders of me and my friends.

  Alas, there’s no sign of her.

  ‘Holy bakus,’ Zora says from beside me.

  I’m awed too. This must be the biggest gathering of level 4 and 5 bakus that I’ve ever seen. I wonder if some of these are even another level above what I even knew was out there – some of them are so incredible. In the middle of the party is someone with a full-sized horse baku – so incredibly impractical, unwieldy, but also amazing. I wonder if they could ride it off into the sunset? It’s certainly an attention-grabbing accessory – people are gathered around them to take a look.

  For the most part, though, the bakus are more ‘traditional’ but still jaw-dropping. There are plenty of big cats roaming around at foot-level, and lots of exotic creatures like monkeys and a fair few large reptiles. A few birds are circling around, taking a video of the crowd. I’m sure this is going to make the gossip blogs go wild.

  Through the chaos, I try to pick out the people that I’m looking for.

  My breath hitches as I catch sight of Eric – his red panda baku draped around his neck.

  >>Breathe, Lacey.

  But what if he recognizes you? This is too dangerous. We should leave.

  >>We should stay. He knows you are here. It will be far more suspicious if you don’t make an appearance with Slick.

  I tear my eyes away from Eric, and instead, I find Tobias – his golden eagle standing out above even the incredible level 4 and 5 bakus of the rest of the crowd. Aero is one of a kind.

  ‘Might as well join the fray, huh? Those hors d’oeuvres look amazing,’ says Ashley.

  And they do. There are trays of miniature Christmas food from around the world being passed around, from little Yorkshire puddings filled with roast turkey and gravy, tiny slices of Tourtière, bowls of poutine with cardboard forks and Nigerian meat pies stuffed with potatoes and carrots and minced meat. There are little mince pies as well (the British kind, with preserved fruit and sugar), and Christmas cookies galore on an elaborate buffet table at the back.

  My mom would have died and gone to cooking heaven if she could have been here. Or maybe not any more . . . I want her to be back in the state of mind where she could enjoy this type of feasting again.

  We walk down the stairs and, as I move my way through the crowd, I hold my breath. I know it’s stupid, but I feel so small and out of place, it’s like I don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as these people. I’m sure that I recognize a lot of them from my school textbooks and from the documentaries I’ve watched about Moncha Corp – and isn’t that the mayor? And even the prime minister over there? Oh my god, I’m at a party with the leader of the country, on Christmas Eve Eve. I have to pinch myself.

  >>I can tell you who any party guest is, says Slick in my ear.

  ‘What?’ I whisper to him.

  >>One of the prerequisites of accepting an invitation to this party is that you enable yourself to be identified. So I have a list of everyone here and I can name them for you.

  ‘So who is that over there?’

  >>Canadian prime minister Mr Alain Cartier.

  I breathe out through my teeth. I was right. ‘Wow. Neat trick, Slick. I suppose that must be helpful to all these people so that they don’t forget the name of someone important.’

  Once again, I lift my head and see Aero on the far side of the room. I want to get to Tobias, to have him see me in my pretty dress. He’s never seen me in anything like this before, and I have butterflies of excitement in my tummy.

  I spin around to walk in his direction – and too late, Slick chirrups a name in my ear.

  Too late, because I know exactly who I’m walking towards – I don’t need the baku to fill me in.

  >>Stay calm, Lacey. Remember, he doesn’t know that I’m here. I hear Jinx’s voice, and I take several deep breaths.

  Then I hold my head high as Eric Smith approaches. His suit is perfectly designed to integrate his baku, so that his panda’s red, bushy tail with a triangle of white at the end curves over the lapel of his jacket, tailored to be there. His eyes appear to light up as he sees me, which makes me feel nervous. I have to control my expressions, though – I could quite easily feel a sense of awe or admiration but the overriding sense is of disgust. Remember what he’s done, Lacey. I just wish I didn’t get so overwhelmed by the awesome tech.

  ‘Lacey,’ he says, pausing in front of me. ‘What a surprise to see you here – I didn’t realize you were still in such close contact with your classmates after you unfortunately had to leave Profectus.’

  I swallow, carefully maintaining eye contact even though I want nothing more than to run away. ‘Thankfully my invitation to Tobias’s annual Christmas cottage celebration didn’t require having a level 3 baku,’ I reply.

  His eyes tighten, losing some of their pleasure at my sass. ‘Ah yes, and is that him?’ He gestures to Slick, who is sitting docilely on my shoulder.

  ‘Yes – a level 1 scarab beetle.’

  ‘An excellent choice. And have you been keeping him up-to-date?’

  I nod automatically.

  ‘Good, good,’ he replies. The tension in his shoulders drops, and he grabs an hors d’oeuvre from a passing tray. ‘Got to make sure you never miss an update or else you risk that little baku malfunctioning. This is much better for you – I’m sure you will be happy this way. Enjoy the convention, won’t you?’

  He moves on, swept away by the crowd, who are all clamouring to meet him. Well, in the way that posh people clamour – slowly circling until it becomes appropriate for them to swoop in. These kinds of parties always give me the creeps. It seems like lots of people are having interesting conversations, but then you look and see that both parties are actually looking behind their heads, over their shoulders, to see if there’s someone they could possibly have a more interesting conversation with. It’s all so inauthentic and fake.

  The visible sigh of relief at having Eric believe I’ve been ‘updated’ fills me with a strange warmth of pride. Eric Smith is still afraid of me. Eric Smith, acting CEO of Moncha Corp, is afraid of me. A fifteen-year-old. A nobody – just somebody who happened to have my eyes on him at the wrong (or the right) time. I straighten my spine. It’s going to take more than a dodgy update to keep me down.

  But behind Eric is someone standing there, who only has eyes for me. Not Tobias – unfortunately, the eyes are nowhere near that kind. Instead, they’re looking at me with an expression of disdain and vague amusement.

  Carter Smith.

  Jinx is in my head again. >>Keep your cool. He’s going to look to get a rise out of you, but he won’t be able to because you’re supposedly updated, remember? Just pretend that you are perfectly happy and content where you are. Bore him with whatever
you have to – talk about St Agnes.

  Got it.

  I try not to change my expression from calm and serene. I know I must look like a spaced-out weirdo – but Carter’s opinion is one that I really could not care less about.

  His boar comes snuffling up first, and I try my hardest not to recoil.

  ‘Lacey . . . enjoying your few days mingling in the big leagues?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Carter, it’s lovely to be here,’ I say, my tone bland.

  He tilts his head and pouts in mock pity. I try not to change my expression. ‘All this must be way over your head now, mustn’t it? It’s a shame for you – if you hadn’t been so intent on getting that mangy cat baku of yours back, you might have actually had a shot at working in Moncha HQ. My dad was impressed by you, for whatever reason. And yet you threw it all away and now you’ll just end up working in the call centre, like your mom . . . “Hello, Moncha customer service, how can I help you?” ’ he says, in a mocking tone.

  I grit my teeth and shrug. Try to remain serene, I remind myself. You are happy and content. You have no ambition. Carter’s words cannot bother you. ‘And what’s wrong with the call centre? I get to help people who are having trouble with their bakus . . . it sounds like the perfect job to me.’

  I wonder if I might have overstepped the boundaries of believability, because he leans in close, his eyebrows pulling together in a deep frown. I fight to keep my expression neutral, even though it’s hard with his bony face so close to mine. ‘Wow, we really did get to you, didn’t we?’

  His frown now pulls at the corner of his mouth. He seems almost . . . disappointed.

  ‘And school is great, it’s nice being back at St Agnes,’ I natter on. ‘Don’t you sometimes wish you could be back there too, without all the pressure of life at Profectus? It’s like, I can actually go to my classes and yet still have a life. It’s nice. Do you want to hear what some of your old friends are up to?’ I try to wrack my brains to think of who were Carter’s friends at St Agnes – I’m not even sure that he had any. But thankfully, I don’t have to make up any stories.

  ‘Oh god, no,’ he says, suddenly all of his scepticism disappearing. Then he laughs. ‘As if I would want to know about life at St Agnes? Who do you think I am?’ He leans forward, his face agonizingly close to mine. I almost break character, but I manage to keep it together. ‘And to think . . . Dad is going to roll out this update to all level 1 bakus tomorrow night.’ He waggles his eyebrows. ‘Come on, Hunter. Let’s not waste any more time here.’

  >>Good job, says Jinx as soon as Carter moves on.

  ‘Thanks,’ I mutter, and I shudder with disgust, now that I’m able. So now we know. Eric is rolling out the update tomorrow. I need to tell the team about what I’ve just heard. I catch sight of Zora’s bright red dress, so I rush towards her, heedless of who I’m pushing out of the way.

  But as I draw close, I spin around on my heels and head in the opposite direction. She’s deep in conversation with Nathan and I know she’ll kill me if I interrupt. Everything about her body language screams that she is into him, and in a way, I am happy for her. But there’s another part of me that’s scared for her. I don’t know what Nathan is really like, but Tobias hates him – and that doesn’t bode well for her.

  But then I forget about Zora and Nathan, because Tobias is in front of me.

  His eyes light up as he sees me, but then his brow creases in worry. ‘Everything okay? You’re sweating.’

  ‘Just ran into Carter and Eric Smith,’ I say, wiping my brow.

  He winces. ‘How did that go?’

  ‘We were right, the update is being launched at the convention tomorrow.’

  Tobias whistles through his teeth. ‘Geez. And Carter just told you that outright?’

  ‘He believes Slick updated me, and that I no longer have any ambitions for life beyond St Agnes and a call centre.’

  ‘They must be more stupid than we could have imagined if they believe that.’

  ‘They’re cocky,’ I say. ‘But we’re smarter than that.’ Finally, I take in how smart he’s looking. He’s not wearing a tuxedo, but he is looking more dressed up than I’ve ever seen him – he’s wearing a blazer with a mandarin collar that has a thin strand of gold piping down the edges, which matches Aero’s metallic feathers exactly. There’s a patch on his shoulder where Aero can ‘clip’ in, so that when he leashes up they become one in-sync machine. But then I notice something troubling. Tobias has a frown etched across his brow, and he looks as if he has a shimmer of sweat on his forehead too. He also hasn’t noticed anything about what I’m wearing. Maybe that’s okay – I’m not so vain that I expected to be showered in compliments – but he’s normally so observant. ‘Are you okay?’ I ask.

  He smiles at me, but it seems strained. ‘Yeah, fine. Just find it a little strange to be here with everyone. And I’m worried about tomorrow. Whether we can get into the dome, what we might find there, and whether we’re going to need outside help . . .’

  I put my hand on his arm. ‘But who can we trust?’

  His frown deepens, this time in annoyance. ‘I have no idea. But I’m still worried that we won’t be able to help Monica. Lake Baku . . . the way it was disguised . . . this whole conspiracy might be so much bigger than we think. What if we need more time?’

  He’s echoing all the concerns that I have, and I know that they are all legitimate. But now it’s my turn to be the strong one. Tobias is used to being the leader, the decisive action man – but even the strongest people need support. I’m learning that now. ‘We’ll do this,’ I say.

  ‘Will we?’ he asks.

  ‘Don’t worry. I have faith in us. We’re a strong team – the strongest, remember? We would have totally won the Baku Battles . . .’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right, we would have.’

  I search his face, worrying at my lower lip. I wonder if he wishes he had never met me – that I’d never found Jinx and gotten into Profectus and on to his team. I’ve turned his entire world upside down. Before, his concerns were about earning his place in his family – now they’re about saving the world.

  There’s a tinkling of glasses and we turn our attention to the stairs, where Tobias’s parents are standing at the very top, champagne glasses in hand. ‘Hello, everyone,’ says Tobias’s dad, his voice rising above the crowd. ‘Welcome to our annual Christmas party. We are honoured to have so many of you here today, and especially honoured that this year we are going to be hosting the Moncha convention at Lake Washington. I’m sure you are all buzzing for that – so make sure you don’t drink too much champagne and miss the real festivities!’

  There’s a tinkle of laughter after which Tobias’s mom takes over.

  ‘The convention is going to start tomorrow evening, at around 7 p.m. It will be broadcast live around the world – and we’re expecting to break records with viewing numbers! We’ve always known that this is an important time for our brilliant company, and we are so grateful to be involved. In fact . . .’ She gestures out into the crowd. There’s a rustle of movement, and I stand on my tiptoes to try and make out what’s going on. I don’t have to wait long to see – Nathan steps up on to the steps. ‘We are so proud as parents to have our son working for Moncha Corp, at the top level, on some of the most exclusive projects.’

  ‘Thanks, Mom,’ says Nathan, bowing his head with humility that I’m sure not used to seeing from him. ‘As someone who has a little insider knowledge, I’m sure Mr Smith won’t mind me teasing that we have a hugely exciting announcement to make tomorrow. Something that is going to make a lot of people’s lives a lot better.’

  Tobias’s palms tighten into fists beside me, and his whole body tenses up like an electric band being pulled to full stretch.

  ‘We truly believe that Moncha continues to make the world a happier place, and we are proud to be a part of it,’ continues Tobias’s father.

  ‘Now, let’s eat, drink and be merry. Happy Christmas Eve Eve, everyone!’ H
is mom raises her glass, and we all follow automatically. There’s a universal clink, and the chatter resumes to full volume.

  ‘I have to go,’ says Tobias. ‘I’ll catch up with you later.’

  And then I’m alone in the party.

  LAKE BAKU

  THE NEXT MORNING, WE’RE UP early to head back to the lake. Zora and River install themselves in our ‘mission control’ room, and I stride confidently towards the skis. But Tobias stops me with a touch. He seems back to his old self, his head held high.

  ‘Not that way. Today, we’re not wasting any more time.’ He leads us from the basement into the garage, where there are four gleaming hovercraft-snowmobiles.

  ‘Wicked!’ says Kai.

  ‘I thought we’d take the fast route,’ says Tobias.

  ‘This is amazing!’ Ashley clambers on to the nearest machine, pulling a helmet down low over her ears.

  It is really cool, but I don’t have a clue how to use one of these.

  Jinx reads my mind. >>Don’t worry, Lacey, I got this.

  He’s returned to his normal black colour now, having shed his silver skin. He crawls into the baku compartment where he plugs into the machine. The engine revs, and Kai lets out a loud whoop! I straddle the padded leather seat, gripping the handlebars – but it’s Jinx who is going to be doing the driving. I’m just along for the ride.

  It’s a lot easier to find the way this time, and thrilling. The snowmobiles hover over the snow, smooth as silk, and the cold wind rushes past as we zip through the trees. The machines are pretty nimble, and Jinx is an expert driver.

  As we approach the lake, it’s hard to believe that the forest in front of us is an illusion. Even when Tobias sends Aero to fly high above the dome, his video feed shows only miles of trees.